


You are not a crone

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: SQ prompt: Emma gets into a fistfight with somebody in defense of Regina's character, and Regina comes on the scene just in time to hear Emma say something unexpectedly sweet. And it's kind of fluffy, with some hurt/comfort because Emma's got a black eye and a bloody nose from the scuffle. Asked by pseudomonalisa via tumblr





	You are not a crone

**Author's Note:**

> Set on: s2

“You do realize, Miss Swan, that I can take care of myself?”

The question and its bite was slightly lost as Regina eyed Emma’s slowly worsening black eye, two fingers softly touching the blonde’s chin, attentively assessing the damage on the woman’s face. The brunette’s fingers were cold against the blonde’s skin and Emma shrugged noncommittally, her already healed knuckles white as she clenched her fists, restlessly seated as she was on one of the chairs at the police station.

“I know that.” She finally replied as she watched how Regina frowned slightly at the open gash on her temple, purple sparks swirling on her pupils while she took a step back, mercifully letting the grasp on her face go. “But you weren’t there and…”

The former queen rose a brow at Emma as the blonde’s voice descended, disappearing on the empty room. Lips tightening into a fine line, blush already beginning to extend down her neck, Emma remained silent under Regina’s stare, the words  _“I promised Henry to keep you safe”_  dying on her throat as she watched how the older woman hummed, her eyes searching hers. Because it wasn’t the total truth, it didn’t even begin to cover everything Emma wanted to suddenly not think about, speak aloud, and so she bite down on her bottom lip, nervous.

“So, you thought turning Whale’s face into a pulp was what was expected from your new position as the savior?”

The question held a slight tilt to it, the question as caustic as Regina’s usual wording around Emma but the blonde’s eyes narrowed as she heard a small pause just before she used the title that she had already heard being whispered here and there by the inhabitants of Storybrooke, each of them asking, questioning, which would be her new step as the curse breaker. Feeling the telling signs of discomfort beginning to crawl up her spine, the blonde shook her head and began to stand, not really prepared to have a conversation both Mary Marg… no, Snow and David had already tried to have with her several times already.

“I didn’t do it because of that.” She muttered through clenched teeth as she rose, and she watched as a muscle on Regina’s jaw ticked, the magic sparks on her eyes traveling south, rising through her cheeks to her collarbones where the blouse she wore hide them from Emma’s view.

“Then why did you do it?”

Emma remained silent at the question, the vague echo of what had been Whale’s last words before she had punched him ricocheting on her skull. Straightening her back as much as she could, trying to play nonchalance as she kept on eyeing the brunette standing a few meters in front of her, the blonde sighed deeply before shrugging, the movement causing her leather jacket to shift on her shoulders, the collar of her shirt rumpled and caked with mud.

“Because it doesn’t matter who you were.” She finally said, the memory of Regina’s smile as she had entered into the dinner with a plate of lasagna still fresh on her mind as well as the moment of utter loss the brunette had showed her to her after she had go after her, the diner’s door ringing behind her. “He shouldn’t be…”

“What?” Regina’s voice rose once again and this time the words resonated with every speck of anger she possessed; her face dark as just a spark glimmered on her hands, the smell of ozone filling the air between them both. “Telling that I’m a crone? I a witch? That I should be hung? Killed?”

There was something there, Emma saw it on the way Regina’s fingers curled as the smoke that was beginning to emanate from them fizzled out, purple rising back to her eyes where it stayed, coloring the dark rich brown with a backlight that made her lick her lips, suddenly parched.  And she had heard the stories already, of course she had. She had heard stories of that Evil Queen who had chased the woman that now asked her to be called “mom”. She had heard other stories however, the ones written between the lines of Henry’s book, the ones that spoke of another kind of woman, of another type of girl.

Smiling crookedly, the blonde run a hand through her hair and winced at the vaguely there burning sensation of Regina’s magic still healing her wounds, the pain on the corner of her eye, getting progressively worse, causing her to whimper.

“You definetely aren’t a crone.” She began, and that actually made Regina smile, even belatedly, after Emma sunk down on her chair once again. “And you shouldn’t be killed either.”

Brown eyes looking at her as Regina approached her once more, fingers cold and soft against the skin of her cheek, Emma felt the weight of her words rising against her chest, hammering against her ribs just as she felt a wave of purple magic washing over her, stitching the gash, making it disappear.

“Because of Henry?”

“No, not only because of him.”

Fortunately, Regina didn’t push, but Emma saw a question on her features before she stepped back once more, her fingers lingering for a moment before her hand fell limp against her side. One question she herself wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.


End file.
